


Men in Rage

by ibreathethroughwords



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars: New Republic Era - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Chapter 2 is Original Work, Fic Rewrite, Fix-It, M/M, New and Improved Extended Edition, Post-Battle of Bilbringi, Resolving Conflict With Penises, Spoilers through The Last Command, Title Edit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 16:12:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1824433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibreathethroughwords/pseuds/ibreathethroughwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Bilbringi, the tension between Thrawn and Pellaeon over C'baoth and other dumb decisions comes to a head.<br/>---</p><p>Edited, extended, and rewritten on 7/22/2017. Chapter 2 contains the original text.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Edited and Extended Version

**Author's Note:**

> I went back and reread this on kind of a whim and ended up cringing a bit because, wow, I WROTE THIS THREE YEARS AGO so it looked horrible to me. This version is nearly 3k words longer. If you prefer the original version it is in chapter 2 now.

Nothing had been the same since Bilbringi. A sort of tension had permeated the air between himself and Grand Admiral Thrawn for weeks now. While the crew of the _Chimaera_ were used to the two of them having professional disagreements or terse discussions on the bridge, Pellaeon knew those prior conversations hadn't caused the bridge crew to tense at the mere sight of them together on the bridge. 

More often than not these days he and Thrawn were at odds about _something_. Pellaeon couldn't fathom how the infuriating man could possibly manage to play his cards even closer to his chest. Before Rukh's betrayal Thrawn had been willing to patiently explain the tactics or leaps of logic that Pellaeon hadn't followed and was usually able to anticipate well in advance what his captain wouldn't understand. Everything seemed to be a test now: explanations were no longer readily given and he was expected to know a lot more off the top of his head. He had to be able to anticipate the grand admiral's needs with nothing to go off of and was met with disappointment in those bright red eyes when he failed.

Pellaeon feared he was regularly found wanting.

Not once in the nearly two years he had been serving under Thrawn had they fought this often or ferociously against each other. The past week alone had seen them enter a record number of shouting matches, and even the infamous argument concerning micro-jumps hadn't been as terrible as the one they'd been having off and on for the entirety of day. 

Today's main subject of contention was Thrawn's insane idea from before Bilbringi to use one of the cloning cylinders from another of the Emperor's storehouses they had found to make another clone of the late Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth. Thrawn wanted him to have a proper upbringing, somewhere where he would be taught to be utterly loyal to the Empire and to Thrawn. In Pellaeon's opinion, even cloning him again was a terrible idea. Dealing with the Jedi hadn't done anything good for the Empire in the end, and yet Thrawn continued to insist that one was necessary for his campaign plans. That was fine, he was entitled to his own opinion, of course. What was infuriating Pellaeon was that Thrawn refused to say _why_ , after everything they had gone through with C'baoth before, he still thought this wouldn't end badly.

It was doubly frustrating because neither of them had anyone of equivalent rank to whom they could safely vent about the issues at hand without it getting back to the other. Out of necessity, it had to stay bottled up for them both. That meant that the row they were currently having in Thrawn's command room would have to stay private as well for both men. They only person they could each vent to was the one with whom they were already angry, and the emotions only piled up on top of those that hadn't dissipated from the last fight.

The argument had gotten out of hand enough that Thrawn was actually standing face-to-face with him. The anger simmering inside the grand admiral was clearly visible on his cold, tight face. Pellaeon's hands were clenched at his sides as he struggled to contain himself. At least Thrawn hadn't dismissed Pellaeon outright for the second time that day, though he thought Thrawn was close to that point.

“If you would at least help me underst-”

He was right about close he was getting. Thrawn cut him off mid-sentence to coldly order him to attention and to hold his tongue. It was late, they were both tired, and he just wanted an explanation that made sense. After a moment of glaring at his C.O. while he tried and failed to stare him down, Pellaeon complied with the order and snapped smartly to attention. Satisfied that his most stubborn subordinate was obeying, Thrawn turned and stepped away a few paces to gather himself. Pellaeon was grateful for the reprieve; it gave him a chance to reign his temper back in and put a lid on it.

By the time Thrawn turned back around, Pellaeon was just as coldly composed as he was. That seemed to vex Thrawn too. His red eyes narrowed menacingly, but Pellaeon refused to give him the satisfaction of flinching. There was silence between the two of them for a moment, before Thrawn spoke in a quiet, icy voice, “If you feel my judgment is so impaired, Captain, perhaps I should find a new second-in-command.”

That was a threat – and an effective one. The comment stung far more than Pellaeon was willing to admit, even to himself. He swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in his throat, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Speaking without Thrawn's express permission right now would likely turn that from a threat into a guarantee – or worse. He focused his attention on trying to keep his immediate emotional reaction off his face entirely, but Pellaeon had a feeling he'd failed miserably at that as well. His stomach tightened in an entirely unpleasant way. It felt like a massive glacier had settled in it.

Thrawn wouldn't have threatened it if he wasn't prepared to follow through on it, and Thrawn wouldn't be prepared to follow through on it if Pellaeon was living up to his expectations and being a worthy second-in-command. 

After letting that hang in the air between them for a moment, Thrawn tilted his head slightly. “Do you have an opinion to offer on that, Captain?” he asked threateningly.

“Yes, sir,” Pellaeon answered, but didn't dare elaborate until Thrawn gestured for him to continue. He took a deep breath to help keep his voice steady. “If that is what you think is best for the Empire then I will support your decision and step down as you wish.”

As much as he would prefer to figure out what the source of tension was, to offer his ear (and have it rejected) again, the good of the Empire had to come first. Trillions of lives depended on them, and both of them had sworn a hell of a lot of oaths to defend those lives to get to the positions they held. He was loyal to Thrawn, to the Empire, and would obey any order given by Thrawn in that regard, no matter how much it personally stung him to have to accept it.

He was also so tired of the pointless bickering.

Maybe Thrawn was too. Some of the tension drained out of him to be replaced by exhaustion as he took a long look at the hurt in Pellaeon's eyes. Had he spoken with the intention of wounding him? Pellaeon hoped not, and desperately doubted it. If the grand admiral insisted, he would resign his commission on the spot, accept a demotion, or transfer to another ship, but he wouldn't like it and it would hurt. The _Chimaera_ had been his home for decades. Everything he had in life was here: his family, his friends. 

He decided to take a risk in speaking again: he was pretty sure he'd learned his lesson and wanted to go lick his wounds in private. “Will there be anything else tonight, Admiral?” he asked, surprised that his voice was even and precise.

“No, you're dismissed,” Thrawn said, and turned away as the captain turned on his heel and tried not to look as though he was running away.  
\---

Pellaeon had been trying to sleep for the past two hours, and sleep wouldn't come. All he seemed capable of doing was lying in bed and replaying that last part of their argument in his mind as his stomach twisted with a mixture of guilt, worry, and anger. Was he going to be demoted or discharged for pushing his superior officer too far? Thrawn had sounded so serious about it. 

What was worse was that Pellaeon couldn't decide if it would be better or worse for the threat of his removal to have been a statement made with the intent to wound him. As far as he knew he was the only person who could push Thrawn into losing control like that. It was a power over the alien warlord he hadn't asked for, but that he alone seemed to be able to claim. One of the things Thrawn himself had praised him for in the past was his willingness to challenge Thrawn, to push him to consider other points of view, or to rethink something that sounded especially far-fetched. To suddenly change his mind on that now seemed so strange.

He couldn't get comfortable with the idea that Thrawn had said something to hurt him. It had cut deeply - there was no denying the pain he felt from those words - after so much coaching from the grand admiral and so much effort put into being the best second-in-command the Empire could ask for. His own answer had been honestly given. Fighting with Thrawn was only making life harder for both them and his crew. This had to change.

But how? If Thrawn wasn't going to change or make an effort to work out the problem, then it was up to Pellaeon to handle it. The only solution he could think of was very much against his nature and against his job duties, but it might ease the tension between the two of them long enough for Grand Admiral Thrawn to deal with whatever he needed to take care of on his end. If Pellaeon wanted to keep his job and figure out what was going on, he would have to hold his tongue, not speak his mind unless it was urgent, and do what he was told until the grand admiral was ready to discuss this or the tension eased.

Or until he relieved Pellaeon of his command.

The thought didn't make him feel much better, but having a plan of action in mind was a little comforting. Resolved to try approaching the problem from this new angle in the morning, Pellaeon closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep – otherwise he wouldn't be able to so easily mind himself in the morning.  
– – –

It had been a busy day, but Pellaeon found himself feeling more emotionally exhausted than physically tired. The entire day he'd had to remind himself to merely obey orders, which had been enough of a drain in the middle of battle. Every word Thrawn had spoken to him, every look between them or at him, Pellaeon's mind had insisted on carefully analyzing for double meaning or some clue as to what his fate would be. Thrawn, maddening as always, seemed to grow more frustrated with him over the course of the day, much to Pellaeon's confusion.

He had spent the day giving the grand admiral what he'd seemed to want last night. What more could he possibly do?

Returning to the privacy of his quarters for a drink at the end of the day was a relief. Pellaeon downed three fingers of whiskey In a single swallow, removed his hat, belt, and tunic, and sat down on the edge of his bed to tug off his boots. Right as he put them in their proper spot for the night, the door chime went off. Annoyed at the interruption to his evening plans of drinking, brooding a little, and turning in early, he stood. He wasn't in the mood for company, and hoped it wasn't ship's business that would require him to put his boots back on.

Pellaeon pushed the button to open the door with the intention of politely telling whoever it was to fuck off; at least, that was the plan until he saw who his visitor was. There was no hope of that now. Regulations permitted the grand admiral access to crew quarters for surprise inspections at any time. Beyond that, despite their recent fights, Pellaeon respected his commanding officer too much to refuse him entry if that's what he wanted. 

Even if Grand Admiral Thrawn was here to deliver a demotion, discharge, or transfer away from his ship. The captain tensed at the thought and had to remind himself that his duty was to the Empire, first and foremost. He would obey whatever disciplinary action Thrawn was here to administer, if that was his purpose for this visit.

“Grand Admiral,” he greeted warily.

“May I come in?” Thrawn asked after a moment spent looking his captain over. The non-human looked uncomfortable and stiff in a way that made Pellaeon wonder if they were finally going to discuss this. His time spent recovering in sickbay had never even brought a look of such embarrassment to that alien face.

A discussion, then, and not an easy one. Doubtless there was another argument he could look forward to.

Resisting the urge to sigh, the captain stepped aside to allow him entry. The door slid closed behind Thrawn. Thinking that it wouldn't do for them to be walked in on while in the middle of an argument or while Pellaeon was on the receiving end of one of Thrawn's dressing downs, he keyed the door to lock and turned around to face the grand admiral.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," he said, and moved to pull his tunic back on.

Thrawn sat down at his work desk chair, and stopped him with a raised hand. "There's no need for that, Captain. I am not here in any official capacity."

Pellaeon sank down onto the bed across from him, guarded and wary. "Why are you here, sir?" He suspected he knew, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to make Thrawn say everything this time.

And the grand admiral knew it. His lips turned down slightly. "Every time we have tried to work out whatever this is, we have done so in locations that only emphasize the power imbalance between us." 

The captain raised an eyebrow and waited for the rest of the explanation, hopeful that silence would prompt more talking instead of a stare-down. A small sigh and a glare were the initial response to his stubbornness, before Thrawn relented. "I would prefer to resolve this somewhere you have more authority."

"Thank you, sir," he responded. It was a gesture he could truly appreciate. In here, at least, he couldn't be ordered away. Thrawn could retreat, and Pellaeon could demand he leave. He was more comfortable with that.

"I am sick of the fighting, Captain, and I suspect you feel the same."

Pellaeon glanced down at his hands so the grand admiral couldn't see the guilt in his eyes. "I do, sir, yes," he agreed, then hesitated. Apologizing would allow them both an easy out, but it wouldn't fix the root of the problem. It might, however, ease the tension enough - take enough of the weight off of Thrawn's shoulders - to let him sort out his lingering problems from Rukh's betrayal.

Thrawn waited patiently for him to gather himself. Pellaeon began again. It wouldn't fix it, but it might buy time, and time could be what they needed. He wasn't coping well either and the entirety of the bridge crew had been to sickbay's psychology team. Many of them were still seeing them, including himself. "I owe you several apologies, sir. Now that I've had time to think about it I recognize that I pushed too far. I'm sorry." Pellaeon didn't have the emotional energy for it to happen again.

"It isn't entirely your fault," Thrawn managed after a moment. "Despite my best efforts I am still having some difficulties."

Pellaeon restrained a sigh. "Sir, with all due respect, you're not the only one still working through issues regarding what happened at Bilbringi." 

"I'm aware of that, captain," he replied with a tone that had cooled somewhat. "I receive the same reports from medical that you do."

"That's not what I-"

"What did you mean?" Thrawn asked.

It felt like more of a demand. Pellaeon took a deep breath. "That we're both still affected by what happened, and I'm not sure how well merely seeing psychology is working." When the grand admiral relaxed a little and gave him a nod to continue, he relaxed slightly as well. "Neither of us have anyone else we can talk to about any issues between us. Or perhaps you do - I don't know who your coded communications are with nor what they say - but I don't. There is a lot I cannot confide in to a psychologist.

"We have never discussed what happened, or the contents of the final reports you received regarding the events on Honoghr and Wayland. I would like to know exactly what went wrong."

Thrawn wet his lips with his tongue, fidgeted very slightly, and turned his head away. "In the morning, I will show you the reports, and try to discuss it. I can promise no more than that yet."

"That's fair," Pellaeon conceded.

The grand admiral leaned back in the desk chair, looking as tired as Pellaeon felt. "There is no one else I can confide in either. Our issues are ours, and we will have to handle them on our own."

"So handle them," he challenged quietly. "Talk to me about this. Tell me what I'm doing wrong. Challenging your decisions upsets you and not challenging you upsets you. Nothing I do seems to be good enough for you since Bilbringi, and dammit, Admiral, you can't have it both ways."

"I don't like seeing you so apologetic. It doesn't suit you, Captain and I found today to be quite jarring."

Considering that the grand admiral's experience with the Corellians aboard the _Chimaera_ was limited to the most boisterous of the lot he wasn't surprised. None of them were pushovers, but Pellaeon had that extra kick of authority and would use it if he had to. "Nor do I like having to be so apologetic, but it seemed to be what you wanted yesterday. If I argue with you on the bridge the crew's efficiency drops," he pointed out bluntly. "Even seeing us on the bridge together is enough to make them tense lately. They're all aware something is wrong."

"How would you know what I want?" Thrawn demanded, ignoring the rest of his statement. The temperature in the room seemed to drop by several degrees. 

"I have no idea what you want anymore. It would usually be easier to anticipate," Pellaeon snapped. With most people the grand admiral wasn't very expressive, but the captain had never had that problem. For his second-in-command - or perhaps for the sake of the man's sanity - Thrawn was almost always expressive. That had changed since Rukh's attack.

"But?"

Pellaeon did his best not to wince at the threat in that tone as he continued on. Sitting was difficult. He stood, paced the length of the room as he considered his response, and stopped near the door, as though he were going to retreat in his socks if he had to. "You've withdrawn, sir. Closed yourself off almost completely. Before Bilbringi, you would usually just tell me if I wasn't catching onto the idea of something. Now you seem to expect me to figure it all out on my own, but you give me nothing to go on, and no idea of whether I'm right or wrong after the fact."

Thrawn's eyes were glittering in the way that indicated he was getting angry, but Pellaeon couldn't leave this alone now that he seemed to be getting somewhere. "It doesn't matter what the topic is either. You have done this with every damn subject since Bilbringi. If you no longer trust me as your second-in-command then I would prefer you dismiss me outright and get it over with instead of leaving me to flounder and be the constant outlet for whatever the hell it is you can't talk to the ship's psychologist about. Sir."

Silence fell between them for several agonizingly long heartbeats before Thrawn stood and advanced on him. Pellaeon swallowed nervously. "You have second-guessed every command decision I have made since my recovery," Thrawn began, tone still ice-cold. The captain had _not_ , and glared at the grand admiral. "Many of them, then," he corrected immediately, "enough that I find myself wondering what to do with you. When I give you direction, it does no good to help you grow as an officer, because you are swiftly moving to the point where you need little guidance. If I give you no direction, you see me as withdrawing and become frustrated.

"I need you to be able to step in should I become incapacitated again, or worse." Pellaeon turned away from Thrawn. That was a conversation they'd had too many times in the week after he'd come out of the medical coma the ship's CMO had put him in to help him recover, and it was the subject of every night's nightmares.

Grand Admiral Thrawn put a hand on his shoulder and bodily turned him back to face him. "Not that conversation again," Pellaeon demanded. "Not now."

"I will have no other successor," Thrawn argued, stomping all over his demands. The hand on his shoulder tightened. "Captain, you are being childish about this."

He was? It might have comforted the lower ranks to know that the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Military was just as capable of hypocrisy as they were. Pellaeon knocked his hand off his shoulder and took delight in the affronted look on Thrawn's face. "You came here, to _my personal quarters_ , under the pretense of giving me some kind of leverage in this discussion, ignore my requests, and call me the childish one, sir? You've taken everything I've said and turned it back around on me as though you have no blame in this, this whatever it is, and _you have the karking nerve to call me childish_?" Pellaeon asked.

It was damn difficult to care that he had raised his voice to his commanding officer as well. They had yelled at each other enough over the last almost two years for him not to fear any backlash for that. The worst Thrawn would likely do now, he was positive, was yell at him in return.

"Is there anything else you'd like to add to that, _Captain Pellaeon_?" Thrawn snapped at him, as though reminding Pellaeon of his lower rank would do anything to make him less likely to argue with the grand admiral.

“You're being an idiot about everything and not learning from past experiences,” Pellaeon snapped back.

Thrawn took a step closer to him, backing him toward the door. “You're not being open-minded or trusting enough,” he informed Pellaeon coldly, something like hurt in his eyes. “And you're completely distracting me.”

“I'm not doing anything I'm not supposed to,” he growled, glaring at Thrawn as he was cornered. "Questioning you is part of my damn job."

Thrawn shook his head. "Every time I look you on the bridge I see you bleeding out instead of me!"

 _Oh._ Pellaeon took another step away only to find himself with his back suddenly pressed into the cool metal of the door, and Thrawn's lips desperately claiming his own. 

His body reacted before Pellaeon's brain could catch up. Instinct moved his hands to tightly grasp the collar of the white uniform tunic as Thrawn's hands gripped his hips with bruising strength. Instinct parted his lips when he felt the grand admiral's tongue brush over them. Their tongues moved together, and Thrawn moved his left hand to Pellaeon's hair to hold him still as he kissed his second-in-command soundly enough that his toes were curling in his socks from the sheer pleasure of it.

One of them moaned – Pellaeon wasn't sure who – as his mind caught up to the situation. Thrawn was kissing him like he was trying to get a point across and this was the only way he could think of to do it. Pellaeon couldn't blame him – words clearly hadn't been working between them before – and found he didn't mind. It was especially difficult to care when Thrawn broke away to kiss over Pellaeon's neck and down to the collar of his shirt. His head hit the door with a gentle thunk as he tilted it back to offer up more skin. That time, it had definitely been him that moaned. Thrawn was already pulling Pellaeon's undershirt free from his trousers and his hands felt so warm against his skin as they greedily roamed over his back and sides.

Not wanting to be outdone or the only one in a state of undress, the captain released his grip on his commanding officer's collar so he could get that damn tunic off of him. The belt clattered to the floor, and was quickly followed by Thrawn's tunic, though he growled a protest into the skin of Pellaeon's neck at having to move his hands away from the captain's skin. Both their undershirts came off next, tugged over each others' heads and then cast away without a care to where they landed. 

Hungry for more than just Thrawn's mouth and hands on him, Pellaeon tangled his fingers in Thrawn's blue-black hair and tugged him so their chests pressed together as they kissed again. That was better: the feeling of that warm, muscled chest pressed against his made Pellaeon's stomach flutter and set his swiftly hardening cock practically throbbing with want. If he wasn't out of the rest of his clothing soon enough he'd sporting a wet spot he wasn't sure even the thick fabric of his uniform pants would conceal.

Perhaps this irritating man could be encouraged to move things along. It was time the captain did some exploring of his own, and that long neck was awfully tempting.

Pellaeon broke the kiss and moved his mouth down Thrawn's neck to taste his skin. It was pleasing enough on its own, but nothing was as satisfying as the little gasps he was able to draw out of Thrawn with his lips and teeth. There seemed to be a spot right above the grand admiral's collarbone that made him moan. Pellaeon tested it, first experimenting with kissing and lapping at it, then nipping and sucking when it became clear this was a weak spot for Thrawn. Each action produced a different sort of noise and reaction from Thrawn, and he lost himself in memorizing which sound went with what.

A gasp of his own escaped as Thrawn's hands moved up and down his bare flanks. The gasp turned quickly into a moan as Thrawn picked that moment to rock his hips forward against his subordinate's. His lips were back on Pellaeon's neck for only a moment as he worked his way up to his ear. Thrawn took the lobe between his teeth and teased it until he drew another moan from the captain. Determine to one-up his commanding officer and still rather angry about earlier, Pellaeon gave Thrawn's hair a short, sharp tug. Thrawn hissed, but tilted his head back, exposing the beautiful blue skin of his neck again in the process.

How could he resist? Pellaeon leaned forward, tilted his head up, and swiped his tongue over Thrawn's jugular. The sweet sound of Thrawn moaning was his reward, so Pellaeon did it again and again until Thrawn was trembling against him and definitely fully hard. Curious to see how he would react, Pellaeon bit the spot.

The response was a low growl, followed by Thrawn taking hold of his wrists in one hand while the other tangled in Pellaeon's hair and tugged his mouth away. Their eyes locked as Thrawn tilted Pellaeon's head up to look at him, and Pellaeon trembled at the undisguised need on the grand admiral's face. Thrawn spun him around, pressed Pellaeon's face and chest to the door, and released his hands to instead firmly grip his hips. He took advantage of the new position to tug Pellaeon's ass back against his clothed erection, clearly tenting the fabric of his uniform trousers.

He found himself unable to hold back a whimper when he felt Thrawn's cock press against the cleft of his ass through the layers between them.

That was a sensation Pellaeon hadn't experienced since his Academy days, and so the quiet moan that escaped him at the thought of what, exactly, Thrawn intended to do with him caught him off guard and brought a blush to his cheeks. The grand admiral paid no attention to his embarrassment whatsoever: he was entirely focused on the task at hand. His teeth and mouth worked over Pellaeon's shoulders as he rolled his hips forward until the captain was a panting, mindless mess against the door, and finally broke down and quietly whispered, "Please."

Pellaeon found himself turned around and pulled into another desperately hungry kiss that didn't break until Thrawn was pushing him onto the bed: Pellaeon hadn't even realized they were moving until he was flat on his back. Thrawn paused to take off his boots, and Pellaeon took the opportunity to sit up on his elbows and appreciate the view. 

Unlike some other high-ranking officers Pellaeon had known during his decades of service, Thrawn was fit. His skin was the same pale shade of blue all the way down to his trousers. There was plenty of muscle on him, but not an overwhelming amount. The bulk of it seemed to be in his arms and shoulders, in those thick, powerful-looking biceps.

Pellaeon wet his lips with his tongue as he looked his fill. He very badly wanted to touch them.

Thrawn seemed more than willing to give him that chance. His glowing red eyes narrowed slightly as he stalked toward the bed. Pellaeon held his gaze as he tilted his chin up in a way he knew Thrawn would read as challenging and defiant, but didn't otherwise move. It seemed to have the desired effect to lure him in: Thrawn knelt on the edge of the bed as he parted Pellaeon's legs. Pellaeon let him, let Thrawn crawl between them until he was leaning over him. Pellaeon's heart was pounding in is chest as he realized how badly he wanted this. 

Thrawn leaned down to kiss him desperately again and Pellaeon lifted his hips to slide their cocks together again. He was eager for the friction, hungry for it now that he knew how much he wanted this, _wanted to have Thrawn_. Wrapping his legs around the back of the other man's thighs made it difficult for him to pull away without effort. With his hands on those broad, warm shoulders, Pellaeon used the leverage to hold Thrawn still as he rocked his hips upward into his again and again. 

In retaliation for his attempt to gain control, Thrawn used his superior strength to break free of Pellaeon's grasp, pinned his hands over his head with one hand, and straddled his legs instead so Pellaeon was immobilized. The chiss sat up as much as he could and, with his free hand, deftly unfastened Pellaeon's trousers. His hand slipped inside to pull out the captain's aching cock. 

Quite unfairly (in his opinion), Thrawn's thumb went right for a major weak spot, and slid over the leaking slit of Pellaeon's cock right as the human opened his mouth to _say something_. What came out instead was a soft moan as Thrawn used his thumb to spread the fluid all over the head. Pellaeon turned his head to the side to lick and nip at Thrawn's wrist.

The teasing action earned him a twist of Thrawn's wrist over his cock that had him gasping and trying to thrust his hips upward despite the weight of the grand admiral pinning his hips in place. Thrawn seemed to be determined to lay siege to his nerve-endings as he did it over and over again before finally relenting as Pellaeon came too close to the edge.

His hand released Pellaeon's cock so that he could slide his fingertips through the pre-cum gathered at the slit. The fingers were brought to his lips, and Pellaeon watched hungrily as Thrawn cleaned his fingers with his tongue. 

Oh.

Thrawn wanted –

_Oh!_

Pellaeon blinked as his mind caught back up to everything that had occurred. “You couldn't have just asked for this like a normal person? I've been asking you for weeks what's wrong and you've refused to discuss it. You threatened me last night. You've been short with me for days.” His tone grew angrier as he talked, and Thrawn stopped him from continuing by leaning in to kiss him again. The taste of his pre-cum on Thrawn's tongue was unbelievably hot and enough of a distraction that all thoughts of arguing with him again were chased away.

When Thrawn released Pellaeon's hands, they went straight to Thrawn's uniform slacks, opening them so he could slip his hand down to stroke him. He hadn't done this in decades but a cock was familiar territory. He knew what to do with his own well enough, how different could it be? Thrawn gasped his name into Pellaeon's mouth as he was stroked. It was a relief that he felt like any human male would. Pellaeon knew how to work with that. He turned his head slightly to kiss over Thrawn's shoulders. “Pants off. Now.”

On this, at least, Thrawn didn't fight him. When he drew back to the edge of the bed he took Pellaeon's pants and underwear with him, then stood. Pellaeon's gray eyes followed his movements, watched Thrawn's cock bounce free as he lowered his own trousers, and couldn't help but lick his lips. His superior officer was a very good size, and that same beautiful shade of blue. He had well-muscled thighs that Pellaeon could hardly wait to get his hands and mouth on. 

The grand admiral let him look, then bent to grab lube out of his uniform pocket.

Thrawn had come here fully prepared for this, the bastard.

Far be it from him to complain right now: he could be angry about it later. This time, Pellaeon spread his legs of his own volition and Thrawn settled between them. He was gentle and patient as he stretched the captain, never going too fast, always waiting for permission to stretch him further. It took a while, but finally they were both convinced Pellaeon was as prepared as he was going to get. 

Thrawn settled his body over Pellaeon's and claimed his lips possessively as he pressed inward. The push of his cock was unrelenting, but he went slowly and steadily enough that it was easy to adjust. When he was as in as Pellaeon could handle, Thrawn ran a hand through his hair, lingered a moment on his lips, and then pulled back to watch the captain's face as he pulled out a little and pressed back in. The feeling of his cock dragging over his prostate made Pellaeon's eyes close, and his mouth open slightly. That felt even better than he remembered it feeling. 

“Exquisite,” Thrawn murmured, and did it again.

The second time found Pellaeon's fists firmly clenched in his sheets. By the tenth, he was shaking and ready to be properly fucked. Thrawn seemed to realize as much, and he sat up on his heels. His strong hands shifted Pellaeon with him so that his hips were lifted up off the bed and resting on his thighs. Every press back into his body was aided by the grasp of those strong hands on his hips, pulling Pellaeon back onto his cock to help him move with his commander. The angle was good – Thrawn was gliding over his prostate with every movement – but that wasn't enough. Pellaeon wanted to be closer, wanted the intimacy from this he hadn't been getting from Thrawn the last few weeks. 

Maybe Thrawn had wanted it too. He pulled out, and Pellaeon was about to protest, but Thrawn moved to lean back against his pillows and tugged Pellaeon into his lap. It was much easier to kiss and touch from this position, and Pellaeon couldn't bring himself to offer up a word of complaint as Thrawn pressed back into him. They moved together, Pellaeon's lips and teeth teasing moans and gasps from his lover as he sought out all of the sensitive spots on Thrawn's neck and shoulders.

The pace increased in small increments as they tried to feel out what the other liked, until they were passed the point of caring. Pellaeon wasn't a young man anymore, but the grand admiral was strong enough to easily lift him up and down onto his cock. Thrawn was pounding into him at a relentlessly hard pace when he finally came with a shout. The feeling of it pushed him over the edge, and he spilled over his own hand, eyes shut tight and his mouth pressed hard against the grand admiral's neck.

They were quiet for a long while, Thrawn holding the smaller human against him as he traced lines over Pellaeon's back with his fingertips. Pellaeon pressed the occasional kiss to his superior officer's shoulders, but didn't really feel like moving, even to lift his head from where it rested against Thrawn's shoulder. His mind had been focused on the sensation of Thrawn's cum dripping back out of him. It was quite warm – it surprised Pellaeon at all that he could feel it - and there was a lot more than Pellaeon was expecting. The feeling was strange, but oddly pleasant, satisfying in that it was a reminder of what had happened. He had been close to dozing off when Thrawn ran a hand through his hair. 

“We should clean up,” he reminded Pellaeon quietly. “I don't know if human sperm is as sticky as Chiss, but I don't particularly want to find out by waking up stuck together.”  
Pellaeon snorted against Thrawn's shoulder. 

“Fair point,” he murmured, and lifted his head. With the grand admiral's help, he managed to get his wobbly legs to move him toward the refresher. Their shower was quiet. Thrawn insisted on taking care of Pellaeon, cleaning his skin, cleaning him out. He peppered soft, doting kisses over Pellaeon's neck, helped him dry off, and even changed the sheets before lowering Pellaeon down into them. The captain had been right: that was more than he'd ever seen a human produce. 

He tugged Thrawn down into the bed with him. “We need to talk,” he said, even as he persisted in tugging the grand admiral close enough to use him as a pillow.

Thrawn allowed it. “I've been an insufferable ass,” he offered into Pellaeon's hair as he pulled him into his arms. “Both because I was terrified of something happening to you instead, and because I realized what it was I wanted and had some trouble coming to terms with it. I assure you, the problem is solved.”

“You have,” Pellaeon groused even as he placed a kiss to his new lover's chest. “You've been horrible since Bilbringi. I'm glad you figured yourself out, but it's been weeks of you acting like you expect me to betray you at any moment.”

When the grand admiral tensed against him, Pellaeon sighed. “I'm not going to do that to you. The Empire needs you. I need you.” He lifted his hand to stroke his fingers over Thrawn's chest. “I'm on your side here, and I only argue on the items that are important.”

“And I haven't exactly been forthcoming, have I?”

That was an understatement. “No, you haven't.”

A soft sigh shifted his hair slightly. “You're right. About C'baoth, I mean.”

“I'm right about the other thing too,” Pellaeon grumbled. Thrawn's laugh was quiet and fond.

He ran his hand through Pellaeon's hair again. “You've got me there.”

Damn right he did. Pellaeon fell silent, more interested in how soothing Thrawn's hand in his hair felt as the fingertips dragged firmly over his scalp. Thrawn was silent too for a while, and then his hand stilled. Pellaeon thought he had fallen asleep for a moment, but Thrawn's hand tilted Pellaeon's chin to look up at him as Thrawn shifted from his back onto his side. His face was serious, and completely open and honest for once. “I'm sorry,” he apologized, “for the past few weeks, for earlier, and for not taking your concerns about C'baoth more seriously.”

Pellaeon hadn't really expected an apology, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate it. “Apology accepted,” he said, and shifted upward so he could press their lips together again. “I'm sorry I pushed you so far.”

“Don't be,” Thrawn murmured. “I need someone under me who isn't afraid to question me, and I spent my entire day being angry at myself for making you afraid to do that. It's your job as second-in-command to question me and keep me in check. I spoke rashly last night, and I should not have said what I did.” He paused long enough to slide his lips back over Pellaeon's again, unable to resist having them so close and freely accessible. “There is no one else I would rather have by my side, in whatever capacity you wish to be there. I'm sorry for threatening you with that, truly sorry.” 

As well he should be. Pellaeon studied him for a moment, and decided to steal another kiss, the temptation too much to resist. “I accept your apology for that as well,” he replied, and took a moment to suck on Thrawn's bottom lip. “I don't want to leave your side.”

“Then don't,” Thrawn replied softly. His hand shifted to stroke over Pellaeon's side. “Stay right here, Captain.”

Like he was going to move at all if he didn't have to? Being called “captain” in bed was weird though, and Pellaeon made a face. “Gilad,” he corrected. “It's just the two of us, and we're off duty.” He arched an eyebrow and smiled a little. “Unless you have a thing for being called by your rank in bed, sir.”

“Sometimes,” Thrawn admitted shamelessly. “Not right now. Thrawn will do, Gilad.” 

“You'll have to tell me more of what you like sometime,” Pellaeon commented after trying and failing to stifle a yawn. Now that he had some kind assurance that the tension was resolved and they were okay again, he was more than ready to sleep.

Thrawn understood that. “In the morning,” he replied. “I'll stay until you're asleep.”

Staying all night would raise suspicions, after all. Pellaeon knew that game well enough, after more than his fair share of inappropriate affairs. Seeing the grand admiral tiptoe out of his quarters in the morning would certainly boost ship's morale, though. “Mmmm,” he replied, not bothering to form a word against Thrawn's chest. Why talk at all when he could just let himself drift off to sleep?


	2. The Original

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The original version. Enjoy?

Nothing had been the same since Bilbringi. A certain kind of tension he couldn't quite put his finger on permeated the air between himself and Grand Admiral Thrawn, and had for weeks now. It was the sort of strain between two people that never went unnoticed by anybody else, that much he knew from the way the crew tensed when the two of them were together on the bridge. More often than not, it seemed, he and Thrawn were at odds about something. Pellaeon couldn't fathom how the infuriating man could possibly manage to play his cards closer to his chest than before; honestly, it didn't seem possible, but the maddening man was doing just that. Before Rukh's betrayal Thrawn had been willing to patiently explain the tactics or leaps of logic that Pellaeon hadn't followed. It seemed like another lifetime ago these days.

For the past few weeks, that was no longer true. Now their relationship was closer to how it had been when Thrawn had returned from the Unknown Regions and come right to take the _Chimaera_ as his flagship.

Not once in the nearly two years he had been serving under Thrawn had they fought this often or willfully; even the argument concerning micro-jumps hadn't been terrible as the one they'd been having the entire day. Today's main subject of contention was Thrawn's insane idea from before Bilbringi to use one of the cloning cylinders from another of the Emperor's storehouses they had found to make another clone of the late Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth. Thrawn wanted him to have a proper upbringing, somewhere where he would be taught to be utterly loyal to the Empire and to Thrawn. In Pellaeon's opinion, it was a terrible idea. Dealing with Jedi hadn't done anything good for the Empire in the end, and yet Thrawn continued to insist that one was necessary for his campaign plans. That was fine, he was entitled to his own opinion, of course. What was infuriating Pellaeon was that Thrawn refused to say why, after everything they had gone through with C'baoth before, he still thought this wouldn't end badly.

It was doubly frustrating because Pellaeon had nobody of equivalent rank to whom he could safely vent about the issues at hand without it getting back to Thrawn. Out of necessity, it had to stay bottled up in him. That meant that the row they were currently having in Thrawn's command room would have to stay private as well.

The argument had gotten out of hand enough that Thrawn was actually standing face-to-face with him. The anger simmering inside the Grand Admiral was clearly visible on his cold, tight face. Pellaeon's hands were clenched at his sides and he didn't understand why his usually logical superior wouldn't see sense. At least he hadn't dismissed Pellaeon outright for the second time that week, though he thought Thrawn was close to that point.  
“If you would at least help me underst-”

He was right about close he was getting. Thrawn cut him off mid-sentence to order him to attention and to hold his tongue. It was late, they were both tired, and he just wanted an explanation that made sense. He wasn't having any luck at all. After a moment of glaring at his C.O., trying and failing to stare him down, Pellaeon complied with the order and snapped smartly to attention. Satisfied that Pellaeon was obeying, Thrawn turned and stepped away a few paces to gather himself. Pellaeon was grateful for the reprieve; it gave him a chance to reign his temper back in and put a cap over it.

By the time Thrawn turned back around, Pellaeon was just as coldly composed as he was. That seemed to gall Thrawn too. His red eyes narrowed menacingly, but Pellaeon refused to give him the satisfaction of flinching. There was silence between the two of them for a moment, before Thrawn spoke. “If you feel my judgment is so impaired, Captain, perhaps I should find a new second-in-command.”

That was a threat – and an effective one. The comment stung far more than Pellaeon was willing to admit, even to himself. He swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in his throat, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Speaking without Thrawn's express permission right now would likely turn that from a threat into a guarantee – or worse. He focused his attention on trying to keep his immediately emotional reaction off his face entirely, but Pellaeon had a feeling he'd failed miserably at that. His stomach tightened in an entirely unpleasant way.

After letting that hang in the air between them for a moment, Thrawn tilted his head slightly. “Do you have an opinion to offer on that, Captain?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Pellaeon answered, but didn't dare elaborate until Thrawn gestured for him to continue. He took a deep breath to help keep his voice steady. “If that is what you think would be best for the Empire and for fixing... whatever is causing this tension between us, then I will step down as you wish and support your decision.”

He was just so tired of fighting when they should be working together.  
Maybe Thrawn was too. Some of the tension drained out of him as he took a long look at the hurt in Pellaeon's eyes. If the Grand Admiral insisted, he would do it, but he wouldn't like it and it would hurt. Right now, Pellaeon badly wanted out of the room. Perhaps Thrawn wanted him gone too.

He decided to take a risk in speaking again; he'd learned his lesson and wanted to go lick his wounds in private. “Will there be anything else tonight, Admiral?” he asked, proud that his voice was even and precise.

“No, you're dismissed,” Thrawn said, and turned away as the captain turned on his heel and headed to his quarters to try to sleep.  
– – –

He couldn't sleep. Pellaeon had been trying to sleep for the past two hours, and it just wouldn't come. All he seemed capable of doing was lying in bed and replaying that last part of their argument in his mind as his stomach twisted with a mixture of guilt, worry, and anger. Was he going to be demoted, discharged, or killed for this? Thrawn had sounded so serious about it, but Pellaeon hoped it was just something said in the heat of the moment that wasn't really meant. His own answer had been honestly given. Fighting with Thrawn was only making life harder for both of them and their crew. This needed to change.

But how? Thrawn wouldn't discuss whatever the issue was, not with him, and Pellaeon had no one else to discuss it with. If Thrawn wasn't going to change or make an effort to work out the problem, then it was up to Pellaeon. The only solution he could think of was very much against his Corellian nature. Obviously, if he wanted to keep his job and figure out what was going on, he would have to learn to hold his tongue, not speak his mind, and just do what he was told until the Grand Admiral was ready to discuss this.

Or until he relieved Pellaeon of his command.

The thought didn't make him feel much better, but having a plan of action in mind was a little comforting. Pellaeon closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep – otherwise he wouldn't be able to so easily mind himself in the morning.  
– – –

It had been a busy day for the Empire, but Pellaeon found himself feeling more emotionally exhausted than physically tired. The entire day he'd had to remind himself to merely obey orders, which had been enough of a drain in the middle of battle. Every word Thrawn had spoken to him, every look between them or at him, Pellaeon's mind had insisted on carefully analyzing for double meaning or some clue as to what his fate would be. Thrawn, maddening as always, seemed to grow more frustrated with him over the course of the day, much to Pellaeon's confusion.

Hadn't he spent the day giving the Grand Admiral what he'd seemed to want last night? What more could he possibly do?

Returning to the privacy of his quarters for a stiff drink at the end of the day was a relief to him. Pellaeon downed a glass of whiskey, removed his hat, belt, and tunic, and sat down on the edge of his bed to tug off his boots. Just as he put them in their proper spot for the night, the door chime went off. Great. The last thing he wanted was company.

Pellaeon pushed the button to open the door with the intention of telling whoever it was to fuck off; at least, that was the plan until he got a good look at who it was. Shit. “Admiral,” he greeted tersely.

“May I come in?” Thrawn asked. He looked uncomfortable and tense in a way that made Pellaeon wonder if they were finally going to discuss this.

Resisting the urge to sigh, the captain stepped aside to allow him entry. The door slid closed behind Thrawn. Thinking that it wouldn't do for them to be walked in on while in the middle of an argument or while Pellaeon was on the receiving end of one of Thrawn's dressing downs, he keyed the door to lock and turned around to face the Grand Admiral –  
– only to find himself with his back suddenly pressed into the cool metal of the door, and Thrawn's lips moving hungrily over his own. His body reacted before Pellaeon's brain could catch up, fisting his hands in the collar of the white uniform tunic as Thrawn's hands gripped his hips tightly. Their tongues moved together, and Thrawn's left hand fisted tightly in Pellaeon's hair to hold him still as he kissed his second-in-command passionately enough that his toes were curling in his socks from the pleasure of it.

One of them moaned – Pellaeon wasn't sure which – as his mind caught up to the situation. Thrawn was kissing him like he was trying to get a point across and this was the only way he could think of to do it. Pellaeon didn't really mind, especially not when Thrawn broke away to kiss over Pellaeon's bare neck. His head hit the door with a gentle thunk. That time, it had definitely been him that moaned. Thrawn was already pulling Pellaeon's undershirt free from his trousers, and his hands felt so warm against his skin as they greedily roamed over his back.

Not wanting to be outdone, the captain released his grip on his superior's collar so he could on getting the damn tunic off. The regulation black belt clattered to the floor. It was followed by Thrawn's tunic, though he growled a protest into the skin of Pellaeon's neck at having to move his hands away from his skin. Both their undershirts came off next, tugged over each others' heads and then cast away without a care to where they landed.

Hungry for more than just Thrawn's mouth and hands on him, Pellaeon tangled his fingers in Thrawn's blue-black hair and tugged him close enough that their chests pressed together as they kissed again. That was better; the feeling of that warm, muscled chest pressed against his made Pellaeon's stomach flutter and set his swiftly hardening cock to practically throbbing with want. This was so wrong: Thrawn was his superior officer; this was against at least ten long-standing regulations; it could have an adverse effect on their abilities to do their jobs – and all of that just made it even hotter. Pellaeon moved his mouth down Thrawn's neck to taste his skin. There seemed to be a spot right above the Grand Admiral's collarbone that made him moan. Pellaeon tested it, first experimenting with just kissing and lapping at it, then nipping and sucking when it became clear this was a weak point for Thrawn. Each action produced a different sort of noise and reaction from Thrawn, and he lost himself in memorizing which sound went with what.

A gasp of his own escaped as Thrawn's hands moved up and down his bare flanks. The gasp turned quickly into a moan as Thrawn picked that moment to rock his hips forward against his subordinate's. His lips were back on Pellaeon's neck for only a moment as he worked his way up to his ear. Thrawn took the lobe between his teeth and teased it until he drew another moan from the captain. Determine to one-up his commander and still rather angry about earlier, Pellaeon gave Thrawn's hair a short, sharp tug. Thrawn hissed, but tilted his head back, exposing the beautiful pale blue skin of his neck in the process.

How could he resist? Pellaeon leaned forward, tilted his head up, and swiped his tongue over Thrawn's jugular. The sweet sound of Thrawn moaning was his reward, so Pellaeon did it again and again until Thrawn was trembling against him and definitely fully hard. Curious to see how he would react, Pellaeon nipped lightly at the spot.

The response he received a low growl, followed by Thrawn taking hold of his wrists in one hand while the other tangled in Pellaeon's hair and tugged his mouth away. Their eyes locked as Thrawn tilted Pellaeon's head up to look at him, and Pellaeon fairly trembled at the undisguised concupiscence on the Grand Admiral's face. It sent a shiver down his spine. Thrawn spun him around, pressed Pellaeon's face and chest to the door, and released his hands to instead firmly grip his hips. He took advantage of the new position to tug Pellaeon's ass back against his clothed erection, clearly tenting the fabric of his uniform trousers.

A dick pressed against him was something Pellaeon hadn't felt since his Academy days, and so the quiet moan that escaped him at the thought of what, exactly, Thrawn intended to do with him caught him off guard and made him feel a little embarrassed. The Grand Admiral certainly didn't seem to mind though. His teeth and mouth worked over Pellaeon's shoulders as he rolled his hips forward until the captain really was trembling in his arms.  
That was when Pellaeon found himself turned around and pulled into another desperately hungry kiss that didn't break until Thrawn was pushing him onto the bed. Thrawn paused to take off his boots, and Pellaeon took the opportunity to sit up on his elbows and appreciate the view. Unlike some other high-ranking officers Pellaeon had known during his decades of service, Thrawn was fit. His skin was the same pale shade of blue all the way down to his trousers. A trail of blue-black hair that started at his navel and trailed down under his waistband. There was plenty of muscle on him, but not an overwhelming amount. The bulk of it seemed to be in his arms and shoulders, in those thick, powerful-looking biceps.

Pellaeon wet his lips with his tongue as he looked his fill. He very badly wanted to touch them.

Thrawn seemed more than willing to give him that chance. His glowing red eyes narrowed slightly as he stalked toward the bed. Pellaeon held his gaze as he tilted his chin up in a way he knew Thrawn would read as challenging and defiant, but didn't otherwise move. It seemed to have the desired effect to lure him in: Thrawn knelt on the edge of the bed as he slowly parted Pellaeon's legs. Pellaeon let him, let Thrawn crawl between them until he was leaning over him. Pellaeon's heart was pounding in is chest. Was he really about to let his superior fuck him?

Yes. Yes, he was.

Thrawn leaned down to kiss him hard again and Pellaeon lifted his hips to slide their cocks together again. Clearly, Thrawn hadn't anticipated the action. “Ravri' ihah!” He gasped the unfamiliar word into Pellaeon's mouth. “You're infuriating!”

“That's rich coming from you.” Pellaeon wrapped his legs around Thrawn's legs so he couldn't pull away without effort, put his hands on those broad, warm shoulders, and used his new leverage to hold Thrawn still as he rocked his hips upward into his again and again. “You're absolutely maddening,” he bit out, “with your secrecy, and your refusal to explain anything all of a sudden.”

In retaliation for his attempt to gain control, Thrawn wiggled free of Pellaeon's grasp, pinned his hands over his head with one hand, and straddled his legs so Pellaeon was immobilized. The touch was rough, but it seemed Thrawn was being careful not to actually hurt him. He sat up as much as he could and, with his free hand, deftly unfastened Pellaeon's trousers. His hand slipped inside to pull out the captain's aching cock. The Grand Admiral bent forward over him to growl into his ear. “You're arguing with me over everything!”

Unfairly, his thumb slid over the leaking slit of Pellaeon's cock right as the Human opened his mouth to retort. What came out instead was a soft moan as Thrawn used his thumb to spread the fluid all over the head. It took him a moment to adjust to the touch enough to form a coherent sentence. “You're being an idiot about everything and not learning from past experiences,” he snapped back. Pellaeon turned his head to the side to lick and nip at Thrawn's wrist.

The teasing action earned him a twist of Thrawn's wrist over his cock that had him gasping and trying to thrust his hips upward. Thrawn wouldn't let him. “You're not being open-minded or trusting enough,” he informed Pellaeon coldly, something like hurt in his eyes. “And you're completely distracting me.”

“I'm not doing anything I'm not supposed to,” he growled, glaring at Thrawn as he was pleasured.  
“All I can think about when I look at you is shutting you up like this,”

he replied after a moment. His hand released Pellaeon's cock so that he could slide his fingertips through the pre-cum gathered at the slit. The fingers were brought to his lips, and Pellaeon watched hungrily as Thrawn cleaned his fingers with his tongue.

Oh.

Thrawn wanted –

Oh.  
Pellaeon blinked as his mind caught back up to the conversation. “So you couldn't have just brought it up like a normal person? I've been asking you for weeks what's wrong and you've refused to discuss it. You threatened me last night. You've been short with me for days.” His tone grew angrier as he talked, and Thrawn stopped him from continuing by leaning in to kiss him again. The taste of his pre-cum on Thrawn's tongue was unbelievably hot.

When Thrawn released Pellaeon's hands, they went straight to Thrawn's uniform slacks, opening them so he could slip his hand down to stroke him. Thrawn gasped his name into Pellaeon's mouth as he was stroked. It was a relief that he felt like any Human male would. Pellaeon knew how to work with that. He turned his head slightly to kiss over Thrawn's shoulders. “Pants off. Now.”

On this, at least, Thrawn didn't fight him. When he drew back to the edge of the bed he took Pellaeon's pants and underwear with him, then stood. Pellaeon's gray eyes followed his movements, watched Thrawn's cock bounce free as he lowered his own trousers, and couldn't help but lick his lips. His superior officer was a very good size, and that same beautiful shade of blue. He had well-muscled thighs that Pellaeon could hardly wait to get his hands and mouth on.

The Grand Admiral let him look, then bent to grab a tub out of his pocket.

Thrawn had come here fully prepared for this, the bastard.

Far be it from him to complain. This time, Pellaeon spread his legs of his own volition and Thrawn settled between them. He was gentle and patient as he stretched the captain, never   
going too fast, always waiting for permission to stretch him further. It took awhile, but finally they were both convinced Pellaeon was as prepared as he was going to get.

Thrawn settled his body over Pellaeon's and claimed his lips possessively as he pressed inward. The push of his cock was unrelenting, but he went slowly and steadily enough that it was easy to adjust. When he was as in as Pellaeon could handle, Thrawn ran a hand through his hair, lingered a moment on his lips, and then pulled back to watch the captain's face as he pulled out a little and pressed back in. The feeling of his cock dragging over his prostate made Pellaeon's eyes close, and his mouth open slightly. That felt even better than he remembered it feeling.

“Exquisite,” Thrawn murmured, and did it again.

The second time found Pellaeon's fists firmly clenched in his sheets. By the tenth, he was shaking and ready to be properly fucked. Thrawn seemed to realize as much, and he sat up on his heels. His strong hands shifted Pellaeon with him so that his hips were lifted up off the bed. Every press back into his body was met with the pressure of those strong hands on his hips, pulling Pellaeon back onto his cock as they moved together. The angle was good –   
Thrawn was rubbing over his prostate with every movement – but that wasn't enough. 

Pellaeon wanted to be closer, wanted the intimacy from this he hadn't been getting from Thrawn the last few weeks.

Maybe Thrawn had wanted it too. He pulled out, and Pellaeon was about to protest, but Thrawn moved to lean back against his pillows and tugged Pellaeon into his lap. It was much easier to kiss and touch from this position, and Pellaeon couldn't bring himself to offer up a word of complaint as Thrawn pressed back into him. They moved together, Pellaeon's lips and teeth teasing out all of the sensitive spots on Thrawn's neck and shoulders, Thrawn's hand on his cock and the other on the small of his back.

The pace increased in small increments as they tried to feel out what the other liked, until they were passed the point of caring. Thrawn was pounding into him at a relentlessly hard pace when he finally came with a shout. His cum was warm – and there was more than Pellaeon was expecting. The feeling of it pushed him over the edge, and he spilled over Thrawn's hand, eyes shut tight and his mouth pressed hard against the Grand Admiral's.

They were quiet for a long while, Thrawn holding the smaller man against him as he traced lines over Pellaeon's back with his fingertips. Pellaeon pressed the occasional kiss to his superior officer's shoulders, but didn't really feel like moving, even to lift his head from where it rested against Thrawn's shoulder. He had been close to dozing off when Thrawn ran a hand through his hair.

“We should clean up,” he reminded Pellaeon quietly. “I don't know Human sperm is as sticky as Chiss, but I don't particularly want to find out by waking up stuck together.”  
Pellaeon snorted against Thrawn's shoulder. So that's what his race was called? “Fair point,” he murmured, and lifted his head. With the Grand Admiral's help, he managed to get his wobbly legs to move him toward the refresher. Their shower was quiet, Thrawn insisting on taking care of Pellaeon, cleaning his skin, cleaning him out. He peppered soft, doting kisses over Pellaeon's neck, helped him dry off, and even changed the sheets before lowering Pellaeon down into them. The captain had been right – that was more than he'd ever seen a human produce.

He tugged Thrawn down into the bed with him. “We need to talk,” he said, even as he persisted in tugging the Grand Admiral close enough to use him as a pillow.  
Thrawn allowed it. “I've been an insufferable ass,” he offered into Pellaeon's hair as he pulled him into his arms. “Because I realized what it was I wanted and had some trouble coming to terms with it. I assure you, the problem is solved.”

“You have,” Pellaeon groused. “You've been horrible since Bilbringi. I'm glad you figured yourself out, but it's been weeks of you acting like you expect me to betray you at any moment.”

 

When the Grand Admiral tensed against him, Pellaeon knew he'd figured it out. “I'm not going to do that to you. The Empire needs you. I need you.” He lifted his hand to stroke over Thrawn's chest. “I'm on your side here, and I only argue on the items that are important.”

“And I haven't exactly been forthcoming, have I?”

That was an understatement. “No, you haven't.”

A soft sigh shifted his hair slightly. “You're right. About C'baoth, I mean.”

“I'm right about the other thing too,” Pellaeon grumbled. Thrawn's laugh was quiet and fond.

He ran his hand through Pellaeon's hair again. “You've got me there.”

Damn right he did. Pellaeon fell silent, more interested in how soothing Thrawn's hand in his hair felt as the fingertips dragged firmly over his scalp. Thrawn was silent too for awhile, and then his hand stilled. Pellaeon thought he had fallen asleep for a moment, but Thrawn's hand tilted Pellaeon's chin to look up at him as Thrawn shifted from his back onto his side. His face was serious, and completely open and honest for once. “I'm sorry,” he apologized, “for the past few weeks, and for not taking your concerns about C'baoth more seriously.”

Pellaeon hadn't really expected an apology, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate it. 

“Apology accepted,” he said, and shifted upward so he could press their lips together again. “I'm sorry I pushed you so far.”

“Don't be,” Thrawn murmured. “I need someone under me who isn't afraid to question me, and I spent my entire day being angry at myself for making you afraid to do that. It's your job as second-in-command to question me and make sure I'm not making arrogant decisions. I spoke rashly last night, and I should not have said what I did.” He paused long enough to slide his lips back over Pellaeon's again. “There is no one else I would rather have by my side, in whatever capacity you wish to be there. I'm sorry for that as well, truly sorry.”

As well he should be. Pellaeon studied him for a moment. “I accept your apology for that as well,” he replied, and took a moment to suck on Thrawn's bottom lip. “I don't want to leave your side.”

“Then don't,” Thrawn replied softly. His hand shifted to stroke over Pellaeon's side. “Stay right here, Captain.”  
Like he was going to move at all if he didn't have to? Being called “Captain” in bed was weird though, and Pellaeon made a face. “Gilad,” he corrected. “It's just the two of us, and we're off duty.” He arched an eyebrow and smiled a little. “Unless you have a thing for being called by your rank in bed, sir.”

“Sometimes,” Thrawn admitted shameless. “Not right now. Thrawn will do, Gilad.”

“You'll have to tell me more of what you like sometime,” Pellaeon commented after trying and failing to stifle a yawn. Now that he had some kind assurance that the tension was resolved and they were okay again, he was more than ready to sleep.

Thrawn understood that. “In the morning,” he replied. “I'll stay until you're asleep.”

Staying all night would raise suspicious, after all. Pellaeon knew that game well enough, after more than his fair share of inappropriate affairs.

“Mmmm,” he replied, not bothering to form a word against Thrawn's chest. Why talk at all when he could just let himself drift off to sleep?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, the reboot is better.

**Author's Note:**

> "Angry Sex: because it's impolite to say, 'You pissed me off so much I want to fuck the shit out of you'".


End file.
